The Life and Times of Annie Cresta Odair
by rambo-the-betta-fish
Summary: Not much was ever said about Finnick's wife Annie, but she has a story, too. This fanfiction follows Annie's journey from tribute, to victor-gone-mad, to wife, to rebel in District 13. Finally, find out what went on in Annie's mind! Major spoilers from Catching Fire and Mockingjay! Please read and REVIEW! I don't own the Hunger Games! This is just my little fanfic!
1. Chapter 1

Thousands of frothy bubbles swirl around me, tickling my bare skin. I giggle, batting at them as I float along with them. Suddenly, from somewhere beyond the reaches of the bubbles, I see a faint glowing light. I strain to see better, and all the bubbles fall away, leaving me alone. I am in a dismal, dark abyss. But I am not afraid, as the light floats toward me. It breaks apart into two lights, and then I notice the color of them. They are perfect, sea green with a twinge of blue and flecks of gold. I can think of nothing else, not the bubbles nor the cold abyss. The beautiful lights warm me, and I feel completely satisfied with the world. I soak up all their light, bathing in it, never wanting to leave the glowing beauty of these two orbs…

"Annie!" my father's voice echoes from down the hall. "Hurry up! It's Reaping Day!" I stretch and get out of bed, upset that my father has torn me from my dream, the same dream I have nearly every night. I clumsily throw my covers over the mattress, then scuttle to my closet. My Reaping dress, faded pale green, hangs tiredly on a bent wire hanger. I yank it on, tying the belt that goes around the waist. I am so small for my fourteen years that the belt hangs to my knees even after I've tied it. I slide my feet into my woven palm frond sandals and quickly fix my wavy, dark auburn hair. I pull it into a bun at the nape of my neck and then tie a tiny net over it, both for decoration and to ensure it stays up. I check my reflection in the mirror, which is really nothing more than an extremely well-polished seashell. Satisfied, I scuff down the hall for breakfast. My father silently slides me a plate with a fried seagull egg and some bread. I wolf down my food as my father chews his own breakfast quietly.

"Annie," he says after a moment.

"Yes?" I reply.

"Whatever happens at the Reaping today, remember: show no weaknesses. No matter what you're feeling, stand strong and face your obstacles. Okay?"

"Okay, Dad," I sigh, as reality sets in. Two kids from my home District will be dead in a matter of days. And there's nothing I can do about it.

Outside, the clock in the square tolls ten times, startling me. We have to hurry to make it on time. District Four has a fairly early Reaping time, but it's never bothered me. We can get it over with sooner, be productive with the rest of our day and try to forget the two kids who were just marched off to execution. My father and I quietly shuffle out the door, getting caught in the streams of people flooding the square. Flooding. The very thing that killed my mother. That wave washed up from nowhere, catching her and pulling her back to sea with it. I shake my head, clear it. That tragedy was long ago, four years. There is a much more current tragedy occurring right in front of me. I sign in with the Peacekeepers and head to the female section for reaping. The sun is brutally hot already, but a breeze from the ocean brings salt-scented relief.

It is time. The mayor, dressed in a faded blue suit, reads the Treaty of Treason in a droning voice, before turning the microphone over to our Capitol man. Our Capitol spokesman ascends the flimsy stage, taking his place at the driftwood podium. This year, his skin and suit are orange, his wig a vibrant yellow so bright I can hardly stand to look at him. But I do see a young man leap onto the stage behind him. Finnick Odair, our latest victor and mentor, the merciless trident-wielding heartthrob. He's wiry, with rippling muscles visible through his light blue dress shirt and black pants. He looks uncomfortable, standing up there in full view. I don't know why, he's usually confident to the point of cockiness. Besides, everyone here has already heard the rumors: Finnick goes from girl to girl in the Capitol, leaving a trail of heartbroken lovers. Why should he be nervous about standing in front of his home district? Weird. But then the Capitol man begins to speak and I focus on him.

"Alright!" he shouts in a high-pitched voice. It seems as though he's unaware he has a microphone; his voice screeches too loudly over the cheap speakers. "Today, I will decide the fate of one lucky girl and one lucky boy from District Four! And what a beautiful district to come from, I might add! Now, let's get right to it and see who will have the privilege of representing Four in the Seventieth Annual Hunger Games!" Always eager to leave the squalor of the districts, anxious to get back to his shining Capitol, the man wastes no time with formalities. He strides over to the Reaping balls, then throws his arms into the air, awaiting applause. No one claps, until the Peacekeepers aim their guns into the crowd. Then you would think silver parachutes were drifting down in droves, based on the excited cheers and cacophony of applause.

"Ladies first! And may the odds be ever in your favor, girlies!" the man screams. He shoves his fist in among the slips of clean white paper, tossing them around before one falls into his palm. Then he pries open the paper and says crisply, "Annie Cresta! Annie, you will be representing…" his sentence continues, but I don't hear any more. I go numb, and there's a dull buzzing in my ears. I gasp and almost fall, before I remember not to show weakness. Never weakness. So I straighten and stagger toward the stage. I am terrified, and I hope in vain for a volunteer. But the crowd stays silent. The Capitol man offers me his hand, to help me onto the platform, but I refuse. I can do it myself, appear like I'm still feeling strong. I stand on the stage with what I hope is a bored expression, like I can't wait to leave. Inwardly, I'm shaking like a palm frond in a hurricane. Some boy gets called to the stage, a big boy. He bawls into his large hands until the ceremony ends and we are whisked off to the Justice Building. Finnick disappears, I notice. Probably off to find another girl.

The Capitol man chatters as we walk across the square, and our male tribute seems annoyed by it. Halfway to the Justice Building, he sucks up his tears and uppercuts the spokesman, which _is_ an effective way of getting someone to shut up. I suppress a giggle and shoot the tribute a thumbs-up. He smiles at me as three Peacekeepers drag him away. No one helps the Capitol man, so I grab his hand and pull him up. His wig is disheveled and he seems scared of our male tribute, but I just stagger towards the Justice Building with him. He continues his prattling, but my own thoughts are filling my head to bursting. I am so afraid. I don't want to die in the Games. Not that I have much of a life here in Four, or much of a future, but I don't want my death televised live in front of Panem. We enter the Justice Building and I dump the Capitol man by the door; I know where I am supposed to go. I remember from two years ago, when my friend Molly was taken for the Games. I went to see her before she left, hugging her and telling her goodbye. A few days later, she was the first death of the Games. She leapt off her platform before the gong sounded, a beautiful suicidal swan dive that ended in her explosive death. I shiver at the memory, knowing that I'll soon see things far more grizzly, far more real. I find the room where I told her goodbye and sit down on the velvet couches to wait.

First, my father is brought in by Peacekeepers. I expected that, but not the tears streaming down his face. My father taught me the 'show no weaknesses' rule. How can he expect me to be strong when he can't even hold it together in front of me? And then he is hugging me and I'm crying too, sobbing because my father knows my weaknesses, because we can be weak together. We cry and hug for a few minutes, and then the Peacekeepers return to take him. I sniffle, and my father looks at me sternly.

"No, Annie," he whispers, his voice shooting up an octave through the last of his tears. "Show them no weaknesses." And then he is gone. I have no other family, so only friends come after that. They hug me and cry and I hug back, but I refuse to let even one tear escape my eyes. For an agonizing hour, I go through this. Finally, the last visitor comes. He is a little boy, simpleminded but sweet. I know him because his mother drops him by my house sometimes, so he can help me mend nets and she can go fishing. The little boy's name is Isemet. He runs toward me, arms outstretched, sobbing. I catch him in a bear hug and hold him tight.

"Annie, you can't leave me," Isemet pleads. "You're my bestest friend! And I'll miss you if you leave!" He is bawling, soaking my dress with his tears. I shush him gently and whisper into his hair.

"I know, Isemet. I don't want to go, either. But I don't think I have a choice. I promise you, I'll see you again. And we'll mend nets. Like always. Okay?" Tears are welling up in my eyes, but Isemet has never seen me cry, and I'm not about to let him see me cry now. He nods.

"Okay. I love you, Annie." I am struggling to answer the little boy, to tell him I love him, too, but I can't without crying. The Peacekeepers save me, coming in at just the right moment and dragging Isemet out. "Annie! ANNIE!" he screams, hysterical. As soon as the door closes, I break down into sobs, uncontrollable. I cry and cry for what seems like years, until I finally run out of tears. I want out of this building, out of this district. I want to go home and hide, evade the Peacekeepers. But of course I can't. So I dry my nose on my sleeve and sit up.

Finnick is standing right in front of me, silent and wary. I fall off the bench in shock, struggling to my feet.

"What- what are you doing here?" I ask, as he comes closer. My mentor has seen me crying! This is awful, he knows my weaknesses, he won't want to get any sponsors for me. But he doesn't sneer like I expected, he doesn't scoff or laugh. He moves silently closer, then envelopes me in a hug. I was expecting something more romantic from the Romeo of the Capitol, but Finnick's hug is entirely platonic. And for that I am grateful. I desperately need a friend right now. I hug back, pressing my head against his muscled chest and finding more tears to cry into him.

"Shhh. Everything's going to be okay, if I have any say in it. I'm here to help you, remember?" he says. I whimper and nod against him.

"But… but you must think I'm weak," I murmur. To my surprise, Finnick shakes his head.

"No, no. Everyone has fear._ I'm_ scared, and I'mnot even the one in the arena this year," he says. "I'm scared because I want my tribute to come back, and I am in charge of that. It's a scary thing, having a life in your hands. Fear does not make you weak, Annie. A person without fear is weak. Fears make us stronger. Okay? Now, let's go help you get stronger." He breaks away from our hug gently, holding me at arm's length. I see that he has been crying, too, based on the wet streaks on his cheekbones. Then I look farther up on his face, to his eyes. I have heard about the famous eyes of Finnick Odair, the eyes that can break any heart and mesmerize any soul. And I am not immune. In fact, I feel my knees go weak when I look into Finnick's eyes. Because I know their color.

My dream. The twin lights that are green, blue, gold. Finnick's eyes are exactly the same color. Black spots flicker over my vision, from exhaustion, stress, surprise. I begin to sway, and my knees start to give out. But I remain focused on Finnick's eyes. He sighs, as though he is used to girls passing out at the sight of him, and swings me up into his arms. I hold on to him, as he carries me out of the Justice Building, and into the waiting train. Finnick gently sets me down on a soft sofa with the male tribute, before whisking off to his own compartment. After Finnick leaves, I regain my senses and take a deep breath. The other boy from Four is watching me.

"Not you too?" he asks.

"What?" I'm confused. "What are you talking about?"

He rolls his eyes and waves his arms ceremoniously. "Don't tell me you've fallen for the famous Finnick Odair?" His tone is mocking, and I sneer at him. No weaknesses, regardless of what Finnick said.

"No," I retort, not sure whether I'm telling the truth or lying. "He just… reminded me of someone."

The boy scoffs, then extends his hand, which I shake.

"I'm Pisces," he says. "Pisces Dalhey. And you are?"

"Annie Cresta," I reply, doing my best to smile. I draw a shaky breath. "You ready for any of this?" I ask.

"No," Pisces replies readily. "I just wanna go home, and we're not even out of the District yet. And I made a fool of myself crying onstage." I shake my head.

"Just because you showed fear doesn't make you weak. A friend told me that once." I smile.


	2. Chapter 2

Pisces and I sit in companionable silence for a few moments, wishing for our tiny District 4 homes by the sea, in lieu of the stuffy train bound for the nation's center. Luckily, our Capitol man walks in and interrupts us before one of us can burst into tears. He's straightened his wig since the last time I saw him.

"Hello, Annie. Pisces." I notice he seems wary around Pisces, considering the guy punched him pretty hard in the gut. I realize Pisces may actually be pretty strong, and file it away in my memory. The Capitol man perches on the edge of our sofa, nearest me, and continues speaking in his arrogant Capitol accent.

"Since I didn't get to formally introduce myself earlier, my name is Nimmo Roxpore. I will be helping the two of you around the Capitol, keeping you in line, and putting out a sparkly clean image of you for all of Panem to see!" He claps his hands joyously, as if he enjoys his job more than anything else in the world. His eyes narrow after a moment, and he shoots a glare towards Pisces. "That is, so long as I don't get harmed in the process!" I giggle; Pisces smirks. Nimmo stands and smiles at us. "I got a nice set of Tributes this year! You both have good looks, and _Annie_ has a good personality. I'll be in my private compartment if either of you need me. Don't hesitate to ask if you have questions! Ta-ta!" And then he dashes down the hall, orange skin flashing brilliantly. I look over at Pisces, and we both burst into laughter.

"Wow," I say with a laugh. "I like this Nimmo guy. He seems to be a good judge of character."

"Speak for yourself!" says Pisces, grinning and sniggering. He stops laughing as a tall and slender woman stops in front of our couch. Her black hair glows eerily against her pale skin. She snaps her fingers without looking at us, and Pisces stands up.

"This is Oshun," he says, rolling his eyes. "She's my mentor. You're lucky you got Finnick. At least he talks." Oshun snarls at Pisces and they head off down the hall. I'm alone on the sofa, and my stomach starts to growl. I rise slowly, getting the feel of the rocking train before going to find a meal. I smell food coming from the opposite end of the train, so I go there first. Sure enough, white-clad Avoxes are laying out a feast.

"Mind if I eat early?" I ask before I remember they can't talk. No tongues. All Avoxes are alleged criminals, who had their tongues cut out by the Capitol and were forced into labor. One of them glances around, making sure we're alone, and then looks at me and shrugs, a faint smile lighting up her lips. I grin at her and grab a plate. I don't feel like a sit-down supper. I walk alongside the table, loading my plate with delicacies. I see succulent roast pork, which I've heard of but have never tasted, and get some of it. I also heap my platter with bright green string beans, tiny russet potatoes coated in melted butter and breadcrumbs, and some orange soup that matches Nimmo's skin. At the end of the table is a towering dessert display. I browse the pastries, chocolates, and confectionary mysteries. Then, at the top of the sweet pyramid, I spy a plain blue bowl. Interested, I retrieve it to find it is mounded with sugar cubes. A slip of paper on top of the bowl reads 'For Finnick.' I shrug and position the bowl on my full plate. I had already planned on finding Finnick before eating; I'll give him the bowl on my way to my compartment.

I mosey down the corridors, opening doors if I don't know what lies behind them. I find Pisces' room, and mine next to it. Some distance away are Oshun's, Nimmo's and Finnick's rooms. I knock lightly on Finnick's door, and he calls out, "Come in." So I do.

Finnick is all alone, which is actually rather unexpected. I'm surprised he isn't having a make-out session with Oshun. Instead, he seems to be drying his eyes from crying, but I'm not sure.

"Here," I say, handing him the bowl of sugar cubes. "These are yours, I think."

He looks surprised by my friendly gesture and nods slowly, taking the bowl from my hand.

"Yes," he says, gazing at me. I have to look away to keep from falling under the spell of his eyes again. He sits up and starts eagerly munching the sugar cubes. Without instruction, I plop down next to him where he's seated on his bed, and start in on my soup. He doesn't seem to mind that I have no sense of personal space. I gulp the sweet orange liquid, unsure of the flavor but definitely enjoying it. Finally I stop slurping long enough to ask what kind of soup it is.

"It's pumpkin," Finnick says between sugar cubes. "They don't have it in Four."

"Well, it's good!" I proclaim. "Help yourself to anything on my plate." I toss a piece of pork to him, and he catches it midair. The sugar cube bowl is empty by now, so I fill it with pork, potatoes, and string beans, and hand Finnick a fork. He smiles his thanks.

"You know," he says, diving into the string beans, "you're the first tribute I've had in a while who hasn't tried to kiss me the first second we were alone." I smile, looking up from the potatoes.

"I do alright as long as I don't look in your eyes." He laughs at my frank reply.

"Will you be that honest in the arena?" he asks, serious for a moment. I stop eating, remembering that this isn't a fun-filled train ride. It's a death march.

"I'm sorry," Finnick says. "I didn't mean to upset you." He holds out his hand, and I see he has saved me a sugar cube. I've never had one.

"Want a sugar cube?" he asks. I take it, popping it into my mouth. The sweet crystal cube melts over my tongue, and I shiver.

"They're delicious," I murmur.

"I know. Next time we have a meal, I'll have the Avoxes save you a bowl," he promises, standing up. "Come on, Annie. They'll be televising the Reapings now. Let's go see who you're up against." I follow him out the door, into the hall. As we walk towards the television room, I notice the temperature in the main part of the train is warmer than Finnick's room. He must notice it, too, because he rips his shirt off as we walk, and it falls to the side. I watch his stride, and the muscles in his back rippling as he moves. I can't deny his good looks, but he's not trying to be seductive with me at all. So far, he's been entirely platonic around me. Probably because I'm a Tribute, and he knows I'll more than likely be dead in a few weeks. I shake the feeling away and blink. We're in the TV room now; Oshun and Pisces are already here. I take a seat between Finnick and Pisces, as Nimmo comes hopping into the room.

"So exciting!" he cheers, turning on the huge TV so we can watch the Reapings from around the nation.

Districts 1 and 2 are predictable: big, beefy Careers, volunteers trained from infancy to slaughter ruthlessly in the Hunger Games and claim the fame and fortune of victory. All four of them volunteer for shrimpy little kids. District 3 sends out two pale, sullen-looking children. I watch my solemn expression, the teensy beads of sweat at my brow and the fear in my eyes, replayed for all to see. Pisces' sobs embarrass him, although we assure him it was fine to cry on stage. Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten. All go by in a blur of bleary children and screaming parents. We see District after District of unhappy crowds, forced to clap, required to act excited about their own kids going to slaughter. Eleven's tributes break the mold enough to startle me. A brother and sister are called, which is rare enough, but this is even stranger. The sister, a girl of twelve or thirteen, is so sick and frail that her mother carries her onstage when she's Reaped. The poor girl's dark skin is sickly pale, and her eyes have purplish splotches under them from being so ill. When her brother is called, he leaps onstage and grabs his sister from his mother, all three of them sobbing as though no one is watching. A Peacekeeper runs up to the platform and wrenches the mother from her children, and she is dragged away screaming. I am shocked that the Capitol allowed any of this to be viewed by the public. Even more shocking is when the brother turns to the Capitol spokeswoman, yanks the microphone from her hand and says into it,

"I hate this. All of this. I don't want to kill any of you." He is still sobbing, but he pulls himself together and says, "But I will. So watch your back. And don't _touch_ my sister." He throws the microphone down and storms off the stage with his baby sister in his arms, dark eyes ablaze. Both are shot with tranquilizers and hauled off to the Justice Building.

By the time the violent and dramatic scene has unfolded, I am sobbing as well, for those poor siblings who have already had more than their share of suffering. I look up to Finnick through the tears in my eyes and see that he is crying, too. Silent tears streak his bronze cheeks, and his shoulders move in inaudible sobs. I look over to find Pisces and Nimmo bawling also. Only Oshun sits dry-eyed, gnawing at a hangnail as if nothing has happened. I turn my attention back to Finnick, whose eyes are stained more blue than normal by the weepiness pouring out of him.

"How do you stand it?" I whisper hoarsely. "Year after year of this, participating in it, knowing the outcome. How can you stand it?" Pisces moves to hug me, but Finnick is faster. He rocks me back and forth, shushing me like before, stroking my hair.

"I don't know," he whispers. "I'm still learning. It seems easier at times, but then…" he breaks off sobbing, and I wrap my arms around him. Now the roles have reversed. I am comforting Finnick, our victor, my mentor. And as I calm him down, smooth his hair and dry his tear-stained face with my fingers, I realize that I, too, may have fallen under the spell of Finnick Odair. The real one. The sweet Finnick in front of me, who is still just a confused boy. Whose life has been stolen from him. Pisces, Oshun, and Nimmo quietly slip out of the room, until only Finnick and I remain. I finish quieting him down, and he looks up at me, disappointed in himself.

"It's okay, Finn," I tell him, breaking out a nickname and deciding I like the sound of his shortened name. "Fear is not a weakness. Those without it are weak. Remember that?" I smile sadly down at him as his tears dry up. He curls onto the comfy leather couch, and I know he won't be going back to his compartment tonight. I fetch a blanket from a large basket beside me, covering him up and dragging a chair next to him. I sit with him, stroking his hair and softly singing an old folk-song turned lullaby from Four.

_Sailor, where are you going?_

_Sailor, a mighty storm is blowing._

_Why don't you stay with me awhile?_

_Why won't you let me make you smile?_

_Come, the fire's warm,_

_Stay, I shall do you no harm._

_Stay, dear sailor mine, right where you belong. _

_Stay with me, and I'll sing to you this song. _

_Sailor, why are you leaving?_

_Sailor, so unbelieving._

_Come in, you cannot leave now. _

_Come in, the waves would blow o'er your ship's prow. _

_Why don't you stay with me awhile?_

_Why won't you let me make you smile?_

_Come, the fire's warm._

_Stay, I shall do you no harm. _

_Stay, dear sailor mine, right where you belong._

_Stay with me, and I shall sing to you this song._

_Come, the fire's warm and I won't harm you._

_This is the place where you belong, though I won't bind you._

_Leave if you must, stay if you can._

_I've always been partial to a sea-faring man._

_Sweet sailor mine, I am partial to you, take my hand._

Finnick apparently knows the male harmony part for the song, because he sings along in a voice as soft and sweet as satin. I caress his bronze locks until he sleeps, the words he's singing slurring as he drifts away. I stay with him, repeating the ending bridge of the song like my mother always did when she sang to me.


	3. Chapter 3

I wake with a jolt as the train lurches on the tracks. I must have fallen asleep next to Finnick, because I'm still in the armchair next to his couch. It's dark, still nighttime. I flip on a lamp near me; the cheery yellow glow lights the room enough for me to see Finnick without disturbing him. His expression, which was contented when he fell asleep, is now the face of someone in a struggle. His arms and legs are flailing underneath the blanket, and he cries out every so often. If the blanket I'd covered him with hadn't been such a light one, I'd think he was just overheating and fighting to get out from under it. But the covering I chose was merely a sheet, and a thin one at that. No, Finnick is caught in a nightmare. And a fairly bad one, from the look of things. I shake his shoulder gently.

"Finn," I murmur. "Finn, wake up. You're dreaming." He yelps as if in pain, and I shake him more urgently. "Finnick! Finnick, wake up! Wake _up_!" With a thunderous frightened shout, he opens his eyes wide. He seems surprised not to see a murderous Career or a devious Mutt. I give him a piteous smirk. "Dreaming, huh?" I ask, trying to pretend as though I was unaware he was caught in a deathly reverie. He sits up groggily, rubbing his head.

"Oh, Annie, knock it off. I know they're bad. I'm completely aware that I scream, and kick, and sometimes cry… when I'm having nightmares." His gaze turns distant, and I know he's seeing something I can't. "They're just so real to me," he murmurs. I hug him close before laying him back down on the couch while I re-curl into my armchair.

"I know," I say, then realize the truth. "Well, no, I don't know. Not yet. But I will." I remember why I'm on this train. Tears come, but I fight them, opening my eyes only when I'm sure I can hold them back. I expect to see Finnick with his arms open for a hug, but instead I find him already asleep. With a sigh, I lean down and give him a peck on the cheek. He smells like the sea, like home. "Sweet dreams, Finn," I whisper. "No nightmares."

I wake with the sun in the morning, having had a nightmare-free slumber myself. I look over at Finnick's couch, to find it still occupied by him. Well, he's had enough sleepless nights. I decide not to wake him, and begin to roam the train. As I walk silently down the halls, lit only by the dawn light, I realize I still haven't seen my compartment. So I wander down the corridor where I located Finnick's room. There, to my left, I see a door marked with my name. I push open the door quietly and head inside.

The room is elegant, but surprisingly stark. Dark yellow walls, a plush bed with burgundy covers, a wooden dresser and a mirror. Not much to see, and the clashing colors hurt my eyes. So I turn on my heel and leave, intending to go ask Nimmo when we'll arrive in the Capitol. Instead, I find Nimmo standing in my doorway. The wig color of the day is electric blue, with a shimmery sequined suit to match. He seems as surprised to see me as I am to see him, and we both step out into the hallway to have more space to breathe.

"Nimmo… what are you doing here? In my room?" I ask. He gazes at me as if the answer is obvious, but answers cheerfully, as always.

"Why, just looking for you and Finnick, little lovebirds. I figured the two of you would sneak off to a compartment before…."

"No!" I exclaim, too loudly. "No, no, _no_. Nothing happened between me and Finnick. _Nothing_, Nimmo. Okay? I'm a tribute, he's a victor. Odds are, I'll be dead in a few weeks, and Finn will have to watch my body get scraped up by a helicopter. Only a fool would involve himself with someone they'll never see again." I stop talking, eyes misty. The sad part is, what I've said is true. In a few weeks, Finnick probably _will_ watch my body being scraped up by a helicopter. Along with the rest of Panem. Including my father, and Isemet. I want to win badly now, so they'll never have to see that horrible image. I shove past Nimmo, accidentally hitting his arm pretty hard with my shoulder. I mumble an apology as I break off into a dead run through the train. I've closed my eyes against the hot tears, so I don't notice when the train gets unexpectedly dark. A computerized voice blares over a loudspeaker,

"Do not be alarmed. We are merely passing through a brief set of tunnels. The Capitol will be upon us very soon. I repeat, do not be alarmed. Use a source of artificial light if necessary."

I've run no more than ten feet before I round a corner and crash into somebody, and we fall together in a heap of limbs on the floor. As we finish the pass through the tunnels, the light returns, and I see that Finnick is the one I've collided with. Of course. He smiles at me, a dazzling display of perfect teeth. I stand up hurriedly, intending to disentangle myself from the situation, but Finnick grabs my arm and makes me stare into his beautiful eyes.

"Annie, thanks for last night. Everything you did was really sweet."

"Yeah, well I guess it's hard for someone like _you_ to fall asleep alone." The words come out far harsher than I had meant them to. His eyes grow stormy for a moment, and disappointment flashes across his face, as though he caught a deeper meaning to my joke. But he quickly regains his composure.

"Anyway, after you woke me when I was dreaming, I never had another nightmare. Although it did take me awhile to fall asleep again. By the way, I'm a very good fake sleeper." He simpers, and I realize what he means. He knows I kissed him last night! I'm mortified, even though it was nothing more than a peck on the cheek. After my conversation with Nimmo, which I am now sure Finnick overheard, I look like such a hypocrite! I raise my hand to slap him, but put it down in an incredible moment of self-control. Finnick smiles innocently.

"So, enough about that," he continues. "I've never been on the train this long before. Let's go find Nimmo and ask him why. We should have been there before nightfall last night."

"You go find Nimmo," I reply, not wanting to face the Capitol man while still feeling two-faced. "I haven't seen Pisces since last night. I want to make sure he's okay." I scamper down the hall, embarrassed when I hear Finnick's loud peal of laughter.

I do want to find Pisces, though; I hadn't lied to Finnick. After seeing his ashamed reaction at his own crying last night, I wanted to make sure he was alright. He's in the TV room, sitting where Finnick slept. I glance up at the screen to see that Pisces is watching a replay of his Reaping again. He flinches when the images of him crying flash upon the screen. With a sigh, I wrench the remote from his grasp and shut off the television.

"Pisces," I say, plopping down next to him, "you need to stop this. It's unhealthy to dwell on the past, especially when there's nothing you can do about it. Don't worry, what you did at the Reaping truly isn't as bad as it seems." He looks at me, clearly disbelieving everything I've just said.

"Yeah, sure. If you had started crying your eyes out, no one would've thought a thing about it. But you're younger than me. And you're a girl." I slug him hard right in the arm.

"Hey!" I chide sternly, genuinely ticked off. "Just as many girls have won the Games as guys, and you know it! So don't even give me that junk!" Pisces looks startled, as if he had expected a more gentle reception. Well, I'm tired of being gentle, after all the confusion with Finnick. Between Nimmo, Finnick knowing I kissed him (I still can't believe that one!), and my possible feelings for my _mentor_, I'm done with being the sweet little girl.

"No, Annie, that's not what I meant," Pisces protests, seeming tired all of a sudden. "I meant that, since you're a girl, people kind of _expect _you to cry. It's nothing against girls, just the truth. But I'm an eighteen year old boy. No, in most people's eyes, I'm already a man. So for me to cry up in front of everyone, instead of taking a swing at a Peacekeeper or something, makes me look like an easy target." He pauses and sighs, and I feel instantly apologetic. I lean into his shoulder, rubbing his arm where I hit him.

"I'm sorry, Pisces," I stammer. "My emotions are just… running a little high lately. I'm kinda skittish, you know?" Pisces nods, and then his gaze gets detached, as if he's deep in thought about something. A moment later, I learn what's weighing on my district partner's mind.

"Look, Annie… I can't win these Games. I know that. I _know_ that. I just, I can't kill anybody. It's not in my nature. I'm absolutely sure of that. I might try to act tough, but I'm a sensitive guy. I'll never have a chance against a pack of Careers, or someone like Johanna Mason, or anyone else, for that matter." He stops for a moment, clenching and unclenching one of his huge fists, inhaling shakily.

"But, I don't want my life to be… wasted. I don't just want to be one of those boys in the arena who gets a knife in his back. I want something with importance. So I've decided to help you… Annie. I'm going to stick by your side once we're in the arena. I won't ask for any of your food or water, or use any of your weapons. I just want to be there to help you out. So when you get attacked, I can try to save you. Or die trying, anyway. Don't say no. Please. This is what I want, this is all I can do with my time in the arena. Please." I look into his eyes, which are a light, satiny brown, and see that he's sincere. Any thoughts I've been having about Pisces just doing this as a ploy to kill me disappear. He really just wants to help me. I nod once, to indicate that he can tag along with me in the arena. I want to thank him, because his protection could be the thing that saves me, but I can't risk letting my emotions bubble over again. Not now. Pisces smiles, relived. And the train pulls into the Capitol.

With a grinding halt, we stop. Suddenly, all I can hear is the screaming idiots outside, waiting to catch a glimpse of some poor District children, on their way to die. I roll my eyes and stand up, making my way to the front door so I can get off. At the door, I am met by an eager Finnick, who has put on a smiling face for the adoring fans waiting to see him step off the train.

"Nimmo said the District 3 train derailed sometime yesterday and we got stuck behind it; that's why we were on here for so long. Funny that it was District 3, with their technology and all. Weird how we never felt the train stop, too?" I nod, thinking that Finn and I were probably singing together when this all happened. I feel the blush rise to my cheeks, and push some hair over my face to cover it.

"You're not nearly as talkative as you were yesterday," Finnick observes in a devilishly seductive tone. I groan and shove myself past him, closer to the door. I want to be off of this train! Nimmo rushes towards us with a key in his hand and opens the door. I'm blinded by the bright morning sunlight, and the eccentrically colored outfits of the Capitol folks in front of me don't help matters. Nimmo leads the way out of the train station towards the Remake Center, and I assume I am to follow. I step off the train, shielding my eyes from all the colors, when Finnick smoothly marches up to me and matches stride with me. Instantly, a chorus of "Awwwww" arises from the women in the crowd, amused or perhaps disappointed by Finnick's hurry to find me. I glare at him, not wanting anyone to jump to the conclusions that Nimmo did, until he steps in front of me and addresses the crowd.

"Ladies, ladies," Finnick calls, waving his arms for emphasis. The crowd goes so quiet that you could hear a pin drop.

"Give. Me. A. Break," I mutter under my breath, wondering how many of the women in the crowd know Finnick Odair _personally_. Feel free to guess what the word personally entails.

"The lovely young girl seen with me today is Annie Cresta, my tribute. We are _not_ in a relationship, because of the complicated nature of the Games. So, there's no need to be alarmed; there's still plenty of Finnick to go around. Enough for each of you. You, and you, and you in the purple there, and-" I grab his arm and pull him away, before any of the adoring women pass out from sudden heart failure. He frees his arm gently and moves to stand in front of me.

"I actually had some advice for you," he entices. "Mentor-ly advice." Now my interest is peaking. We start walking again. "I know their clothes hurt your eyes, but try to look at them. Remember, you need to be friendly. These people are going to be your sponsors. They control your life. Or your death. Also, please try to smile. This whole set-up is disgusting, I know, but the Capitol citizenry isn't responsible. Snow is. The people here are just mindless sheep, like little children; they don't know how horrifying it is to us." I turn to face the crowd with a huge fake grin on my face. I wave at them, and they cheer and applaud.

"No need to stick up for your _clients_, I already planned to make an attempt at being charming," I say dryly. After Finnick laughed at me in the hall this morning, I have wanted nothing to do with him. Besides, reality is setting in, and I'm realizing that I don't need to develop feelings for someone I'll only know a few weeks.

"Look, Annie. I really am sorry about laughing at you. And telling you I was awake when you kissed me. I didn't realize that you would take it the way you did. Or that you were so taken with me," he says, giving me a sincerely apologetic face complete with puppy-dog eyes. Finnick doing puppy-dog eyes is too much, and I can't stay mad at him. I laugh.

"You're forgiven, Finn," I admonish, taking his hand in a friendly way. "Now show me the Capitol you love so much." He swings our clasped hands and begins acting like a tour guide as we walk toward the Remake Center.

"Now here is a fine example of the Capitol's famous candy-colored tiles. And over there, a 24-hour dance club. One of my favorite haunts, as a matter of fact." I giggle as Finnick points out the novelties of the Capitol; a story or a tidbit of humor is attached to nearly every place surrounding the Remake Center. I realize how harsh and daunting the Capitol would have seemed to me, without Finn there to make the place seem more… comfortable. By the time we arrive at the front doors of the Remake Center a few minutes later, I'm laughing uncontrollably. Finnick is describing a lounge called Dionysus, and the story that goes with it is hysterically funny.

"And so I said, 'No, sir! I will not put my shirt back on! This is a restaurant, not a black-tie wedding! And, sir, why are you staring at my pecs? Do you want some Finnick like everyone else? Then here, have some!' And then I tossed the whole tureen of mashed potatoes at him!" We're both chortling like preschoolers now, as we head in behind Nimmo. Oshun and Pisces have followed us at snails' pace; she wanted the crowd to take in Pisces' muscular physique. Apparently, Pisces hasn't told Oshun that he plans to die for me without killing anyone. Not that I blame him, I wouldn't have told her, either.

Nimmo turns around to face Finnick and I, since Oshun and Pisces are still shuffling in. Both of us try to stop laughing abruptly, so that Nimmo can speak, but I wind up snorting accidentally and that sets us both off again. Neither of us can stop now, and we don't even attempt to control our guffawing. Oshun parades in and rolls her eyes at us; Pisces comes in behind her. Nimmo waits patiently for us to stop, but there's no end in sight. Finally, Finnick stops laughing long enough to tell Nimmo,

"I know… hahaha, where she's… hahaha, going, Nimmo… hahaHAha, I'll take her… hahaha." Nimmo smiles at us and waves us away, and Finn leads me down a hall. After a moment, I tug us over to a wall and collapse, because I can hardly breathe. I wait until my chuckling spasm has finally passed, and then I ask,

"What was so funny, anyway?" Honestly, I've forgotten amidst all the laughter. Finnick opens his mouth to tell me, but I press a finger to his lips and say, "No! Don't tell me, we'll never stop laughing if we start again!" He agrees, because he doesn't continue. For the first time, I actually look around and see the Remake Center.

White. Everything here is white. Floor, ceiling, walls, doors. Every surface is covered in shiny white plastic, smooth to the touch and cool on my skin. Squares of light glow softly from the ceiling; I can barely make out the faint outline of each light through its abundant plastic coating. Finnick stands up and pulls me up with him. I realize then that our hands are still clasped, and make no move to separate them. The connection of our hands feels right, but not romantic. More like two close friends strolling down the beach back in Four. Four… why am I not there?

Realization washes over me like the wave that swept me mother away. The Hunger Games; death. My knees give way and I start to sink; Finn's biceps contract instantly and keep me from falling. He picks me up and holds me to him, forcing me to look into his eyes. Those beautiful eyes have a calming effect on me, and I am breathing normally again after a moment.

"Are you okay now, Annie?" he asks me carefully. I nod silently. Relief leaks onto Finnick's face and he smiles. "Good. You just remembered why you were here, didn't you?" I nod again, and Finn's smile turns grim. "It stinks, I know. But I aim to get you through these Games alive, alright? You just have to trust me. And one crucial step in getting the sponsors who can save you is having a nice image. Which is why we're here. Okay? Let's go let them make you pretty… I mean, more pretty than you already are! If that's possible!" He sets me down, and I smirk up at him.

"Nice save, Odair. Come on." We walk hand in hand down the shiny white halls, until Finnick points out a door marked 'Taythanna'.


End file.
